


Mine

by RiTheBeta



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Scent Marking, Watersports, Werefox Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiTheBeta/pseuds/RiTheBeta
Summary: Peter gets hurts during a fight with a hunter. Stiles is a little bit worried about him. Things happen.





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Kinktober. Technically it's from day two and no I'm not going to write a day one. I'm not even sure if I'm gonna write any more. I'm pretty busy betaing most of the time so I rarely get any writing done, so please enjoy. 
> 
> I know that age of consent is a big thing for a lot of people so you'll be happy to know this is completely ambiguous about how old anyone is, except in the flashback. For those of you who care, I had this idea about a line where Stiles says something about having finished college but it never fit so if you want to go with that age, perfect. If you prefer him older or younger than that, also perfect. I hold no judgment for how you read my fic :)
> 
> Now that I'm done rambling, enjoy the fic.

_My silly little mischief. You don't need to mark your toys as yours. We mark things as ours to keep them and us safe, not just to make them ours._

Stiles can still hear his mom's voice in his head as he scampers through the preserve back to where he left the rest of the group. His mind flicks through the memory of the first _real_ time he marked something, well someone, sort of.

~*~

He had been playing in his fox form at his mom's feet while she did the laundry. Daddy’s deputy uniform came out of the dryer, and Stiles jumped into the basket on top of them and promptly marked them just the way his mom had taught him.

“Stiles,” she'd admonished him. “I just washed these and daddy has to wear them tonight!”

He shifted to his human form just as she tossed them and the other affected clothes back into the washer.

“But Mommy,” he'd whined. “Daddy is mine, and he keeps me safe. And I want to keep him safe.”

“Oh sweetheart, that's very nice of you, but daddy has to wear clean clothes to work.”

Stiles had slunk off then, trying to be a big boy and not pout but it still made him sad that Mommy would wash his mark off Daddy's clothes. He was very happy to find that when he hugs Daddy goodbye that night before bed, he could still smell his mark, just a little bit.

When Daddy wasn’t at the table for breakfast, Stiles had been a little worried and even more worried when Mommy said he was at the hospital. But once he settled down enough to listen, Mommy told him he wasn’t hurt. Instead, he was the only one with zero injuries, and he was watching over his fellow deputies until their families could arrive. Luckily no one was hurt enough to cause permanent damage, or Stiles’ preening would have been severely inappropriate. In Stiles’ 6-year-old brain, it was his marking that kept his dad safe, and no one had the heart to tell him otherwise.

~*~

When he arrived back at the clearing where the group had been facing the stupid hunter, almost everyone else was gone. Derek is there, kneeling next to Peter, holding just above the bullet hole trying to keep the wolfbane from spreading into his chest and getting near his heart. When Stiles enters across the way, Derek holds out one hand but doesn’t even look up. Stiles runs the rest of the distance and then carefully sits on Peter’s chest. After carefully releasing the bullet from his mouth into Derek’s hand, he begins trilling and licking Peter’s chin.

“There, there, little fox,” Peter tries to sooth. It would work if he didn’t immediately wince so hard it starts a coughing fit. When he’s breathing normally again he continues, “I’ll be fine little one, you did very well getting the bullet from that nasty hunter.”

Peter has to stop talking then because Derek has opened the bullet and lit the wolfbane. As soon as he takes a deep breath, Derek is shoving the ash into the wound. He tries not to scream.

Stiles is licking down Peter’s throat now, still trying to comfort with his trilling. The next thing he knows Peter is sitting up, holding him close to his chest and Derek is nowhere to be seen.

“See, Stiles? I’m good as new,” Peter tells him, showing off the newly healed skin of his arm. “I do so appreciate that you went after that hunter for me though. It would have taken anyone else much longer, I’m sure.”

They sit there for a little while. Peter calm as can be, petting through Stiles’ fur; Stiles still fretting, shifting around in Peter’s hold, checking the previous hole in his arm and checking every other inch of his upper body. Eventually, Peter lounges back on the tree behind him, reclining at an angle that allows him to let go of the squirmy fox in his lap.

Stiles hops off of Peter’s chest and paces from his shoulder to his toes a few times before jumping back onto his chest. He still seems to be vibrating, and his scent tells Peter it’s with worry. Suddenly, he goes still, eyes flashing to Peter’s before looking away and his scent sours with shame. A moment later, Peter can feel a warm wetness seeping through his shirt. It’s not a lot, just a tiny little bit but Peter knows what it’s about.

“Is that what you need, little kit? Will that make you feel better and calm you down?”

The little fox makes an affirming trill and looks at his face, almost hopeful.

“Okay then, baby. Go ahead. I won’t be mad; I understand the urge.”

Stiles doesn’t even hesitate. He starts with Peter’s belly, releasing a careful stream of urine, and starts moving up toward his chest but then changes his mind finishes at his crotch.

Almost immediately he begins to shift out of his fur. Once he’s human, Peter can see that he’s panting, deep heaving breaths, and his eyes are wild as they rake over Peter’s urine soaked form. When Stiles’ shifts, it becomes obvious that he’s also hard. Hard and leaking.

Stiles doesn’t talk quite as much right out of his shift, probably because he’s still listening for the dangers that plague him when he’s barely a foot and a half tall. They don’t know for sure because Stiles doesn’t talk about it and never seems to recall those moments when asked about them.

So Stiles isn’t talking, but he’s saying a whole lot right now.

“Should I be jealous of Scott considering how often I know you still mark him?”

Stiles just tilts his head, a question in his eyes.

“If this is how my boyfriend reacts to scent marking, I feel I would have a fair case for jealousy.”

“Never reacted like this before.” Stiles stutters out.

“Never?”

Stiles shakes his head.

“Well then--”

“I have to have you. _Right now._ ” It’s almost a growl.

“Come here then, little kit,” Peter purrs.

The sound is softer than usual, Peter’s energy level having not nearly recovered enough for this kind of activity. His smile is easy, but there is a tightness in his eyes that belays the heat in his words. He grunts, painfully, when he catches Stiles atop him.

“Have me, darling. However you want. I’m afraid I won’t be participating much but do as you please little one.”

Stiles moves his hips in a deliberate circle and then stops. His brow furrowed his looks down the length of his body to where his hips are in line with Peter’s jean-clad ones. He tries again and stops again. Peter’s eyes follow where Stiles’ had led and clicks his tongue. Hands on Stiles’ hips, he guides him further up his body.

“You know you can’t rub off on jeans, Stiles. Even when they are as soft as mine,” he chuckles.

Stiles settles into a smooth rhythm against Peter’s currently slippery belly. He whines at the lack of friction though he never slows his movements. Peter reaches between them and cups his hand over Stiles’ dick, pinning it against his abs. Stiles sighs in relief and picks up his pace, chasing his release with all the pent-up energy his worry had built up.

When Stiles comes, he’s breathing heavily into Peter’s neck, sucking a mark that fades before he’s finished covering Peter with his release. He pulls away slowly, resisting the urge to rub the mess into Peter’s skin.

He looks around the clearing, assessing how embarrassed he should be but when he turns back to look at Peter, he’s deliberately rubbing the mess Stiles left on him into his skin wherever he can reach. Stiles studies him carefully, and when Peter has finished, he lays back down on him, snug in his embrace.

“Still worried about me, little kit?”

Stiles snorts a laugh, “No, but I’m naked, and there are pine needles on the ground. It’s safer up here.”

“Of course that’s it, love.”

They rest like that for a long while, until Peter suddenly tenses up. Stiles goes from sated and sleepy to alert in less than a second.

“What is it?” he asks, head swiveling, searching for signs of danger.

“It’s nothing,” Peter smiles. “Derek’s come back to check on us. I think he has a blanket or something. Help me up, little kit.”

Stiles stands and reaches out to pull Peter with him.

“I’m not a little kit,” he grumbles while strategically situating himself behind Peter. Yes, Weres are less awkward about nudity, but Stiles had more or less only been raised by his human father and even still, his boyfriend’s _nephew_? He does not need to see him naked, no matter what either of them says about it not being a big deal.

“Of course you’re not, darling,” Peter says, reaching a hand back to pat Stiles’ bare hip. “Of course not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don't really consider "watersports" to be one of my preferred kinks to read let alone write so I hope I did it some justice?
> 
> Not that I post much about fandom stuff or anything at all but you can find me on [Tumblr](http://ilovebeingme17.tumblr.com)


End file.
